


Finding Sam

by authoressnebula (authoressjean)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Episode: s04e06 Yellow Fever, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Bobby Singer, Protective Dean Winchester, Season/Series 04, schmangst, schmangst is what I do best, why is that still not a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:06:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23723554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoressjean/pseuds/authoressnebula
Summary: All Dean knew, when he came to, was that Bobby was crouched over him, concern evident, and Sam was standing above him, looking like his world had ended.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 158





	Finding Sam

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from LiveJournal October 2008.
> 
> Another season 4 AU of sorts to explain where my brotherly affection and love went. I could write a dissertation about season 4 and my feelings on it but I'll refrain. Have fic instead.

The hunt was planned out to a T, the weapons were perfectly set, and Bobby had even joined them for a three to one ratio. The hunt itself actually went fairly well: the creature died, the house didn't fall down, the hunters lived.  
  
Except for the tiny problem of Dean winding up unconscious and covered in blood.  
  
Wasn't like he'd _intended_ for it to happen. One minute, he'd been swinging his machete as he closed in from the right, since Sam had taken left (and not told Dean, but that were pretty par for course lately). The next, he'd felt his blade hit home just in time for himself to feel airborne. Things got fuzzy after that.  
  
All Dean knew, when he came to, was that Bobby was crouched over him, concern evident, and Sam was standing above him, looking like his world had ended.  
  
“You hearin' me okay?” Bobby asked, and Dean focused on him for a moment.  
  
“Yeah; head's still ringing, but that was kind of what I expected.” Not as bad as the ringing in his ears as his heart had seized, and the only sound he could hear was Lilith's taunting, childish voice.  
  
Yeah. The less remembered about those few days, the better.  
  
Bobby made a face and pulled him to sitting. He winced at the change in altitude, and felt his head pound a little more when he was upright. “Because I'm sure you were expecting the thing to explode and send you flyin'.”  
  
“Exactly,” Dean agreed, even as he looked down to survey the damage. None of it felt like his blood, but he was fairly covered in it. All right, the word _saturated_ might've been a better choice, or _freakin' swimming in it_. There was blood covering his gray t-shirt, and his jeans looked no better. His jacket was dark enough that most of the blood couldn't be seen, and his red button-up was...well, redder.  
  
“Yeah, I'm so not on laundry duty,” Dean said, sending a grin in Bobby's direction. Even as Bobby rolled his eyes, Dean glanced up at Sam, and felt his grin freeze, then fall into a frown. Sam still hadn't moved, was still staring at Dean. No, almost staring _through_ Dean, his mind and thoughts somewhere else. “Sam?”  
  
Sam's eyes immediately shot up to meet Dean's, and all Dean could see was terror. “Sam?” he asked again, growing more concerned with each passing moment, and dammit, couldn't the kid say anything? “Sam! You okay?”  
  
Sam stared at him for a moment more, stricken and fearful, then turned and walked out of the room at a rapid pace. “Sam!” Dean yelled after him. When Sam didn't stop, Dean started pushing himself up. The world spun alarmingly for a moment, and Dean shut his eyes and breathed in deeply to try and stave off the inevitable. The onion rings at lunch suddenly sounded like a bad idea, and why hadn't Sam told him that like he was supposed to? The kid just wasn't Sam anymore, yellow eyes or not.  
  
Okay, that memory wasn't helping his stomach any. “The hell's the matter with your brother?” Bobby asked, and firm but gentle hands took hold of Dean's arms, lifting him to standing. It actually helped instead of being the world spinning change Dean had been afraid of. He was able to glance at Bobby and focus on the man, seeing the worry instead of the annoyance his words suggested. “You standing okay?”  
  
“Yeah, and I'm walking okay, and then driving okay, and then talking to Sam okay,” Dean said, taking a few steps forward. Not great, but not violently-ill-dizzy either, and the pounding was starting to abate. Good; he had a little brother to find.  
  
It felt weird, the protective urge that swelled up, and it hit home just how long it'd been since he'd really felt that way. He kept forgetting sometimes that he was Sam's big brother, that Sam was the little brother, because lately, they just...hadn't been. Sam had been his own man ever since Dean had come back, and Dean had been trying to find out exactly what was going on, from angels to demon powers.  
  
The problem was, he wasn't any closer to figuring any of it out, and he still felt like he was losing his brother. Two sides of the coin, he knew he hadn't really been there himself, and there was nine types of wrong with how they were right now. They were _brothers_.  
  
And Dean was going to remind Sam of that. Just as soon as he found him, and just as soon as Dean fully reminded himself.  
  
The car was still parked on the side of the road, right outside the house. Which meant he couldn't have gotten very far. “SAM!” Dean shouted, then groaned, cradling his head at the noise. Probably a concussion. Great.  
  
“Hotel's in walking distance,” Bobby said from behind him, before he took Dean by the arm and helped him down the porch stairs. By the time Dean remembered to protest, they were on solid ground. He threw a glare in Bobby's direction anyways, and received a snort for his trouble. “I'll take care of everything here: you go find your brother.”  
  
“Right,” Dean said as he headed to the car. As much as he hated leaving Bobby with the cleanup, finding Sam at that point was possibly a little more important. Who knew what the kid was thinking? God but there'd been a time he could've pinpointed it, just from the look on his face-  
  
A firm grip on his shoulder turned him away from the car and to the sidewalk that led back to town. “I said, hotel's in walking distance,” Bobby said. “You're not driving with a concussion.”  
  
“And I'm not leaving Sam that much time on his own,” Dean returned, giving Bobby a real glare this time. “I need to do this. I need to get to him, okay? I...we need to talk.” There was no real possible way that Dean could try and describe just how weird and uncomfortable and un-brotherly things had gotten between him and Sam.  
  
From the look on Bobby's face, he didn't need to. “Then I'll drive you, then drive back,” Bobby finally said as he opened the passenger door. “And don't touch the radio dial.”  
  
He was already inside the car before Bobby finished speaking. A few moments later, Bobby slid into the driver's seat, taking the offered keys from Dean's hand and starting up the car. “He could be just fine,” Bobby attempted.  
  
“Yeah, because everyone who's 'just fine' takes off looking like they want to cry,” Dean muttered. Hotel was maybe five minutes off by car; he might even beat Sam there.  
  
Or he could catch up with Sam as his brother hurried down the side of the road. Dean was out of the car as soon as Bobby had it at a crawl, leaving Bobby to curse and park. “Sam?” Dean called out again. With each step he took, his head felt better, and everything looked clearer. More stable, which meant the ride was over, and thank you for riding the Tilt-O-Brain.  
  
Sam, meanwhile, looked even worse. He kept his attention focused ahead, his back hunched up near his ears and facing Dean. “Sam, what's going on?” Dean tried again, jogging to catch up.  
  
When he took hold of Sam's arm, however, Sam all but ripped his arm back out of Dean's grasp and continued moving forward. “Just...leave me alone,” he mumbled.  
  
Yeah, hadn't been a good policy for the past few weeks: wasn't happening now. “Try again, because that line doesn't work anymore,” Dean said, reaching forward and catching Sam's arm again. “Why'd you take-”  
  
“Let _go_!” Sam shouted suddenly, pulling his arm back but whirling around to face Dean. His eyes were red and wet, and despite the glare he was desperately trying to give, he was still crying and shaking. “God Dean, just...just _leave_ , okay? It's what you're going to do anyways!”  
  
Dean blinked and blinked again. “...Excuse me? The hell are you talking about?” Was Sam still thinking about those horrible couple of days in Carthage?  
  
He didn't even have the chance to cringe at the memory before Sam plowed through. “Hell, Dean! That's what I'm talking about! You're going to l-leave again, just like you did five months ago, and I can't...I can't _do_ it again!”  
  
It finally clicked, far too long after it should've, and Dean did cringe then at the image he had to have made. Sprawled on the floor, unconscious and unresponsive, covered in blood. He was _way_ too rusty with the brother thing, and he moved a step closer to Sam. “Sam-”  
  
“NO!” Sam all but screamed, and Dean froze. Sam swallowed hard and took a few shuddering breaths. “No, not again. I'm not going to sit and watch you die, and I thought...I thought if I just stayed disconnected, it wouldn't hurt as much as it did before, but I've been disconnected as much as I can be, trying not to care, and I can't _not_ care, because it's _you_ , and I can't live through you dying again, through _watching_ you die again, I just _can't_ , and I _tried_ -”  
  
Dean stumbled back at the first unexpected blow, more surprised than hurt. Sam came forward again, both hands up, and shoved Dean again. “-I tried, Dean, and it doesn't matter what I _do_ ,” was punctuated with a fist pounded against Dean's chest. “It _doesn't_ , because you're still going to die again, you're going to leave me alone again,” another punch, followed by two more, “and I couldn't do it the first time, not when I couldn't save you, and there was just blood _everywhere_ , and you didn't _move_ , and you were screaming and I couldn't...I couldn't _s-stop_ it-”  
  
The poundings were getting weaker and weaker, and Dean was ready when Sam fell against him, wheezing and trying not to sob. “Sam, I'm not...” Words failed him, and Dean finally wrapped his arms tight around Sam and whispered fervently, “ _Sammy_.”  
  
Sam let go completely in Dean's embrace, sinking to his knees and burying his face in Dean's shoulder to muffle the sounds of his sobbing. Dean followed him down, shutting his eyes tight as he did so. Sam had closed himself off from Dean all this time, not out of a new found independence and way of life, but out of necessity, out of survival. And somehow, they'd both been so disconnected that Dean hadn't even realized that was why. Looking back now, it was so _obvious_ , and that thought made Dean pull away to look Sam in the eye. “I'm not dying,” he said firmly, and the abrupt move and words made Sam hesitate, made him stop the sounds of grief that were ripping through Dean. “You hear me? I'm not shuffling off the mortal coil, I'm not stepping over to the other side, because I'm _not_ going to let it happen, and more than that, I know _you_ aren't going to let it happen.”  
  
“I couldn't stop-”  
  
“It couldn't _be_ stopped, Sammy,” Dean said gently, cutting Sam's miserable protest off. “Only I could've stopped it, and I wasn't about to.” Sam hiccuped but otherwise stayed silent, even redder eyes focused solely on Dean.  
  
“But I'm not going anywhere, so that means you're stuck with me,” Dean finished, before giving a hopeful smile. “And that means I kinda want my little brother back.”  
  
Trembling lips slid up into a watery smile, before the weight of the still present grief crushed it down. Dean squeezed his brother's arms and pulled him back in, resting his chin on top of Sam's head. Wasn't an instant change, but Dean would take what he could get.  
  
And that was going to start with giving Sam what he needed: his big brother.  
  
“You boys don't do anything in halves, do you?”  
  
Both turned to glance up at Bobby, who stood beside them, face set in the usual lines of fondness and exasperation. His eyes shone briefly, and when he blinked, the shine was gone.  
  
Like Dean wouldn't have known how Bobby really felt, anyways. “Not really,” Dean said cheerfully, then tussled Sam's hair just because he could. Sam's sniffle turned into a squawk of indignation, his own hand coming up to bat Dean's away.  
  
“Figured as much,” Bobby said, and a real grin appeared this time. “Can I tempt either of you with a hotel room that includes a hot shower, food, and a bed? Preferably the one I can dump you both at so I can go back and deal with the house?”  
  
“I could do with a shower,” Dean declared. He stole a glance towards Sam and found a smile on his brother's face. About time. “How about you?”  
  
He stood and extended his hand down, raising an eyebrow at Sam. Sam reached up tentatively, but when his hand took Dean's, it was a solid and firm grip. “After you, bro,” he said softly.  
  
With a grin Dean pulled his little brother up to stand beside him. That was the way it was supposed to be, the way it had been before everything, and the way it was going to be again.


End file.
